Wednesday, June 10, 2009

A plane. My second for that day had just set off. From my window seat, I saw beautiful Amsterdam. A river, lakes, green areas and well structured building blocks… then the huge open ocean. The water was seemingly calm, but intimidating. A whole world of mysteries and endless untold stories lying beneath that glittering blue surface, whose uniformity was disturbed by a few dark dots scattered here and there.

That day, I experienced the longest sunset of my life. It literally lasted for hours. My flight which set off at sunset was traveling west, and so was the end of the day. As the arrival of nighttime slowly worked its way westward above the Atlantic, so did our flight. As if we were earning bonus hours on that day. As if the deepest wish of permanently busy people had just materialized. The day lingered beyond the twenty-four hours.

Layers and layers of comfy-looking clouds appeared outside my window. Amazing nuances of pink and purple marked the horizon, an imaginary yet universally referential line somewhere in the air.

From my thousands-of-meters altitude, I thought of how drastically perspective differences can change the way we see things. Just as the usually remote clouds looked fluffy and almost inviting when seen from above. Just like heavy, colossal, roaring ships can turn into mere dark dots scattered here and there on the surface of a blue ocean.